


More Than A Match

by WandererRiha



Series: Even Match [1]
Category: Before Crisis: Final Fantasy VII, Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Avalanche AU, Elfe is awesome and deserves more love, F/M, Fic of Fic, Gen, Hojo (Compilation of FFVII) Being An Asshole, Sephiroth is a disaster, but we love him anyway, it's all off-camera, no gory details or anything, tw: non-graphic mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24558505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WandererRiha/pseuds/WandererRiha
Summary: Continuation of the fic prompts Boomchick did for me which can be found here:An Even MatchThank you again!  <3In which Sephiroth finds an unlikely equal in the leader of Avalanche.
Relationships: Selfe - Relationship, Sephiroth/Elfe, Zack Fair/Aerith Gainsborough
Series: Even Match [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033425
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Deserter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Boomchick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boomchick/gifts).



> Trigger Warning for off-camera, non-graphic mutilation.  
> It's never actually said what happens.  
> Suffice to say Hojo gets in Sephiroth's personal space.

“You failed,” the President growls. “This is the third time, Sephiroth. I will not tolerate this any further.”

Sephiroth cannot bring himself to care. Everything about the Shinra building seems insufferably dull of late. Is he being careless? Perhaps. But what can they possibly do to him? How does one discipline a SOLDIER? Will they make him run laps? Do push-ups? Work KP? Sephiroth has to force back a smirk at that last one.

“Then you have another operative in mind who would succeed where I have failed?” Sephiroth asks mildly, and is rewarded as the President’s red face darkens to purple with rage. They don’t. He _knows_ they don’t, and any punishment would barely be a slap on the wrist.

“You’ve grown too big for your britches, boy.” The words are growled, carrying the threat of a punishment not yet conceived. Sephiroth idly wonders what this little man could come up with that Hojo has not already. He’s survived everything so far. Whatever they throw at him, he will survive that too. He’s too valuable to be thrown away.

“Failure is not an option,” the President continues, pointing accusingly with his cigar. “If your performance isn’t up to par by the next mission, you can consider it your last.”

Oh dear. How very dreadful. Whatever will he do? It ought to send a spike of fear through him- there was a time it would have- but Sephiroth swallows back a yawn instead. Empty threats. He’s seen troopers scream and curse at jammed weapons and broken swords and this is no different. He is a weapon, a tool, the best one they have. They can yell at him all they like. It will not change anything.

Hojo’s been watching him through the whole meeting. This is not unusual. It’s motivation for Sephiroth to keep his face blank, his voice even. Yet the scientist’s eyes bore through him with more than their usual intensity.

“ _Labs,_ ” Hojo says, the word short and sharp. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”

With a mental sigh, Sephiroth turns to follow him down to the 68th floor.

\--

“This won’t do, Sephiroth,” Hojo grumbles as he putters about the room, assembling his kit. Sephiroth spies many familiar pieces on the tray, all of them cold, sharp, and pointy. There are a few, however, he does not recognize and this worries him slightly.

“Your failure is my failure, and I am _not_ a failure. Neither are you.” He stares up at Sephiroth through his spectacles, a scowl creasing his sour face. “You’re not thinking with your head, boy. There’s only one reason I can think of that you’ve come back empty handed not once, not twice, but three times. We’re putting a stop to that, right now.”

He turns back to his tray of implements going over everything, mumbling and nodding the whole time. After a moment, he looks back over his shoulder.

“What are you still doing in uniform? Undress. Now.”

It’s to be one of _those_ examinations. Best to get it over with. Sephiroth begins to disrobe, stopping once he’s standing in his underwear. Usually Hojo allows him this much. It’s difficult to maintain one’s dignity when being poked and prodded in one’s altogether.

“Everything,” Hojo snaps without looking up. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Sephiroth steps out of his shorts, folds them, and places them on top of the pile of neatly stacked clothing.

“Sit down,” Hojo orders. “Legs apart. You won’t like this, but it’s for your own good.”

\--

He’ll heal, Sephiroth reminds himself yet again. It will heal. Just give it time. His body will repair itself. He’s lost fingernails, a toe, a finger, part of his ear, even his spleen, and it all grew back. It will be fine. Time. He just needs time.

In the meantime, he carries on as usual. The only difference is he avoids the communal locker room, choosing instead to change and shower in his quarters. If anyone notices, no one asks him about it. He’s sent on a handful of minor missions, probably just to make sure his...treatment...hasn’t affected his ability to swing a sword. It hasn’t. He hadn’t expected it would. Sephiroth is used to pain, to discomfort, and Hojo marks no notable changes in his fighting capability.

“Very good,” and it’s strange to hear praise, no matter how back-handed, from Hojo’s mouth. “You’re adjusting well. Much more practical, isn’t it? Another week or so and you’ll wonder how you ever managed before.”

Sephiroth has his doubts about this, but as usual, keeps them to himself. Hojo must have passed his clean bill of health to the President, because it isn’t long before he’s called to the board room again.

“This is your last chance,” the President tells him. “Hojo tells me he’s cured you of your adolescent foolishness, and that I can expect results. I don’t need to tell you that failure is unacceptable. You do not return without that girl’s head on a platter, is that understood?”

Sephiroth nods. “Understood.”

\--

Avalanche has been sighted outside of Junon, are possibly hiding out at Fort Condor.

_You do not return without that girl’s head on a platter, is that understood?_

His orders echo in his ears. Yes. He understands. He knows what he’s got to do.

Elfe is waiting for him, white cloak fluttering in the wind that shears around the spire of rock that makes up the Fort Condor fortress.

“Sephiroth.”

“Elfe.”

She tilts her head, noting the lack of playfulness, the teasing tone they’ve always used before this.

“What happened?” she asks, already on alert.

“They sent me to kill you.”

“I’m aware.”

“I can’t.”

He _could_. Physically, he is capable. He possesses the strength, the dexterity, the skill. He has superior height, weight, and stamina to his advantage. He could make short work of her if he really wanted to.

But he doesn’t.

“You sure about that?” she dares, trying to spark their usual banter, but Sephiroth hasn’t got the heart to play along.

“You said that if I were to defect, you’d have me.”

She blinks, taken aback. “Yeah.”

“Did you mean that?”

Blue eyes search his face, trying to spot the deception, but there is none. Sephiroth does his best to hold her gaze, but it’s hard. Instead, he lowers his eyes and starts unbuckling. His pauldrons clatter to the hard-packed earth, followed by his gloves, bracers, and coat. Last, he drops his SOLDIER belt onto the pile. Standing in his boots and trousers, Masamune in his hand, he tries to meet her eyes. The wind sprays sand into his face, making his eyes smart and water.

“Did you mean that?” he presses, swallowing back the trembling in his heart so that it will not affect his voice.

Elfe stares at him, clearly trying to parse what she’s looking at. “Are you saying you want to join Avalanche?”

“I want to join you.”

“What happened?” she asks, demands, closing the distance between them and reaching for him. Her hand on her arm sends a shiver through him and he has to swallow back the knot that’s risen in his throat before he can answer.

“I was told to either return with your head or not at all.” His words are flat, even, toneless. “So I won’t be going back.”

His friends are gone. Hojo’s got what he wanted. He’s made himself a liability. It’s as the President said, Sephiroth will not be Shinra’s chosen hero forever. He’s no longer useful. Better to step down than to be thrown away.

“I want you.” The words come out a broken whisper, half lost to the wind.

“You can’t have me,” Elfe reminds him.

“I know.” He knows. In ways she’ll never understand, he knows. “But I’d like to be with you. Near you. If you’ll let me.”

She’s still staring as if she cannot believe what she’s hearing. It hurts, but it’s fair. She has no reason to trust him. Not knowing what else to do, Sephiroth sinks to one knee. Lifting Masamune, he offers her to Elfe with both hands.

“I cannot go back. Take me with you.”

With one hand, she takes Masamune. With the other, she takes his hand and pulls him to his feet.

“Come on.”


	2. Captive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sephiroth embraces the vigilante life.

Sephiroth becomes Elfe’s willing prisoner. The swarm of Avalanche troops that appear out of nowhere are no surprise to him.

“Take him into custody,” she tells them, dropping his hand.

He’s not worried, in fact he’s distantly amused by the manacles they clamp around his wrists. He could break them easily, but he doesn’t. Elfe’s under no illusions that he could escape whenever he likes. If he really wanted to, he could tear her troops- indeed the whole mountain- apart with his bare hands. But he won’t.

Sephiroth lets them push and shove and jostle him to a cavern deep within the mountain. There he’s stripped of what little he has left. The guards stare wide-eyed at Hojo’s work. Sephiroth does not look at them, just stands there, refusing to flinch. It’s a skill that is second nature after so much practice. 

They aren’t dumb enough to try to assault him, to give him a reason to fight back. Instead, they add more chains, make him kneel on the cold stone, to await Elfe’s judgement. It allows some measure of modesty; hides the scar from immediate view. Sephiroth sits quietly. He’s been through worse. The smug remarks and off-color jokes of his guards are no more than flies to a dualhorn; a small annoyance barely worth noticing.

Elfe descends then, her sharp words cutting through his apathy:

“What is _wrong_ with you?! He surrendered! Give his clothes back!”

His chains are loosened, his hands freed, and the guards hastily vacate. Elfe herself brings his trousers over and lays them across his lap.

“Sorry about that. I should have given more specific instructions.”

Sephiroth shakes his head. “I’ve cut down plenty of your men. It’s only fair.”

He stands, intending to dress. What is modesty to a soldier? Elfe gasps and freezes. He looks up to see high color rapidly draining from her cheeks, a look of shock crystallizing into horror.

“Gods of Gaia,” she breathes. “What did they _do_ do you?”

Sephiroth buckles his belt, shrugs, does not answer the question or meet her eyes.

“It’s not important.”

“It happened after the last mission, didn’t it.”

He nods. Elfe hisses a curse.

“I’m fine,” he insists. “It doesn’t hurt.”

The pain in her eyes touches a raw spot inside him, rending his words a lie.

“Yes it does,” she says, and pulls him into her arms.

Then it’s his turn to freeze, to draw a sharp breath and shrink back. He’s not in pain, but he’s not used to this. As much as he wants her touch, it threatens to set free too many things he’s kept bound and hidden, locked away at the back of his mind, at the bottom of his heart. Already he can feel his throat closing, his eyes begin to sting, and he cannot afford that. He pushes her away as gently as he can and tries to take a steady breath. It doesn’t go well.

Elfe doesn’t insist, just steps back, one hand sliding down his arm to take his hand. His heart swells inside him and he has to swallow again, squeezing her fingers in return.

“We should move,” he says, deciding it’s best to stay on task, stick to things that are safe. Things they both understand. “Shinra knows where I’ve gone. Eventually, they’ll come looking for me. They can’t afford to let me run free.”

“They’ll never find you,” Elfe vows, and he can’t help smiling a little at the promise in her words.

\--

They pack up. Sephiroth submits to having a bag put over his head, to being cuffed and stuffed in the back of a truck with a lot of other gear and vigilantes. He doesn’t mind. He leaves his coat and armor in a pile where he dropped them. He does, however, retrieve the materia. Let Shinra make of that what they will. He hates to leave the coat, but it’s come to define him as much as his long silver-white hair. It can’t come with him. The whole point is to leave Shinra behind.

He allows himself to be cuffed again, to undergo a barrage of questions and grilling from Elfe’s officers. He answers their questions evenly, politely, not rising to their threats or insults.

“He’s here because he wants to be,” Elfe reminds them. Their jaws snap shut at her words. “He could have killed you- all of us- if he felt like it. But he hasn’t. He’s on our side, so knock it off.”

“How do you know that?” one of them challenges- the one in the bandana. Sephiroth thinks he heard Elfe call him ‘Shears’. Elfe looks to Sephiroth expectantly.

“SOLDIER is fractured,” he begins. “Broken. After me, there’s really only one other First. Losing Genesis, Angeal, and their men weakened us...them...greatly. Their loyalty is not so much to Shinra, but to each other. Up until now, Shinra has taken care of them. They have been questioning that loyalty ever since Genesis defected. That doubt grew deeper when Angeal died. Now that I have joined Avalanche, I cannot imagine their ties to Shinra will last much longer. If the Silver General has turned coat to fight for the other side, there must have been good a reason.”

“You think you could get the rest of them on our side?” Shears gapes.

Sephiroth shrugs. “It will be difficult, but not impossible. Likewise, the Turks have suffered and hold more loyalty to each other than to the company as a whole. I believe they could be persuaded as well.”

“How?” the one with the glasses asks. Sephiroth doesn’t like him. The glasses remind him too much of Hojo. Sephiroth turns to Elfe who nods. Taking a deep breath, Sephiroth tells them, step by step, how to destroy Shinra.

\--

No one trusts him. Sephiroth doesn’t expect them to. Fear and hostility are something he’s become immune to long ago. He is not allowed Masamune- as if he needed her to cause trouble. Elfe carries her on her own back, which is reassuring in a strange way. She has him train her troops alongside her, teaching them SOLDIER techniques and forms. Slowly, the open hostility morphs into confusion. No one can really understand why he’s here, or why he’s helping them.

He spends his days contributing to their cause, and at night, he’s kept under guard in a cell. Sometimes it’s an actual prison space- the freight of a truck, a storage shed, a broom closet in an abandoned warehouse- sometimes it’s just him kneeling, cuffed, surrounded by guards with guns. Surely they know whether he’s cuffed or not does not make any difference. He’s here because he wants to be. That’s all there is to it.

Normally, he follows Elfe around, and since he’s cuffed when he isn’t training anyone, she leads him by a strand of his hair. Eventually, she takes a section and plaits it into a permanent leash. He doesn’t mind. It reminds him a little of the braid that hangs down just behind her left ear.

“My loyal lapdog,” she teases fondly. Sephiroth smiles.

Elfe interrogates him nightly. She calls it interrogating; it’s anything but. However, it gets the guards to leave them alone for a while. She talks, he listens, and sometimes adds a word or two. Conversation isn’t exactly something in which he’s had training. She curls his braid around her finger thoughtfully.

“Wanna hear something funny?”

“Sure.”

“The troops think I seduced you.”

Sephiroth grins and they both dissolve into muffled snickers so the guards outside his ersatz cell won’t hear.

“They’re not wrong,” he tells her. That brings her up short, color rising in her cheeks. Sephiroth just looks back, watching her. “That first time Shinra sent me to kill you… I hadn’t had a fight like that in ages. You were- _are_ \- my equal. You became more than a mark. I couldn’t kill you. I didn’t want to.”

It’s an awkward declaration, but one that he’s wanted to share for a while. The pink doesn’t leave her cheeks, but her expression sweetens, her lips curling up in a smile. She lets the plait slip from her grasp and takes his hand instead, lacing their fingers.

“The first time, I couldn’t believe I won, couldn’t believe you’d just walk away. The second time made me curious. The third time, when you made me bleed, but still let me live...I knew something was up. Then the last time you came back…” she trails off, words crumbling to a whisper.

“You came back,” she repeats, voice carrying an odd little tremble, “and I saw they’d hurt you…” She stops, swallows, breathes for a moment. When she speaks again, her words are hard and determined. “I wouldn’t have let you go back after that even if you wanted to. I _won’t_ let them hurt you. Not again.”

It’s strange to have someone want to protect him. Normally he’s the one who’s supposed to be doing the protecting. He’s always been able to protect himself. Why hadn’t he thought to fight back when Hojo… Sephiroth shakes off the memory, not wanting to devote any more thought to it.

“I’m alright,” he tells her, trying to be reassuring. “It’s gotten better.”

She forces a smile and squeezes his hand. “Good.”

“And I don’t want to go back. Not unless you’re with me.”

At this she leans forward, extends an arm to put around him, but pauses midway, waiting for permission. Sephiroth nods and leans toward her as well. Her arms around him is still something he’s getting used to. They’ll just have to practice more.

\--

They make plans, train, run from the hapless troops that Shinra sends after them. Most of the time, they don’t even engage. On multiple occasions, Sephiroth is accused of being a spy, of somehow summoning the Shinra troops to himself. He denies all this with the same even tone he’s so often used in the boardroom. He’s not sure if anyone believes him, but eventually they stop asking.

In the beginning, he’d had four guards, then two. It’s not as if he needs any, really. He could walk away at any time, but he hasn’t. After a long day of training, Elfe takes his braid in her hand, and leads him toward the tents they’ve pitched in the lee of the canyon. However, she doesn’t head toward the truck that’s been serving as his prison cell. The remaining guards seem just as surprised as he is.

“I’ll watch him tonight,” she tells them, and pulls him toward her tent as if every eye in camp were not following them in disbelief.

Sephiroth can’t help staring at her a bit himself once they’re inside. Why has she done this? The troops and everyone else will assume the obvious, but Sephiroth knows that can’t be her intention. He’s better, but he’s nowhere near fully healed. Then he spots the second sleeping bag.

“Get comfortable, and keep your hands to yourself.” The command is teasing, playful, and he catches the pillow she chucks at him easily.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

He never goes back to his cell.

\--

Perhaps because of Sephiroth’s change in billeting, Fuhito speaks up.

“We can’t do this alone. Not without help. We’re going to need more firepower than we currently have; more soldiers.”

He isn’t wrong. At present, their plans rely on stealth and trickery. Zack’s managed to catch them once or twice, and so far neither he or Sephiroth have been able to convince each other that his own cause is the right one. It’s disheartening to say the least, yet Sephiroth understands why Zack cannot bring himself to leave. He isn’t staying for himself, but for his men. Someone’s got to look out for them. Now that Sephiroth is gone, Zack must govern all of SOLDIER alone.

“It isn’t the Turks or SOLDIER we need behind us,” Fuhito goes on. “Which is why I’ve arranged a meeting with my source.”

“So we finally get to meet your mysterious operative inside the Shinra building,” Elfe muses, curious. “Alright. Bring him in.”

In waltzes Rufus Shinra, plus Zack and two Turks. Sephiroth is...not surprised exactly, but he certainly hadn’t been expecting this. It _does_ explain a few things; Avalanche’s endless supply of guns and ammo, their constantly low yet never exhausted funds, their auxiliary unit of off-brand SOLDIERs. All of them had had the reek of Shinra about them- specifically, mako- but Sephiroth had only his instincts to offer as evidence. Now, it seems his suspicions were justified.

“What the hell is this?” Elfe snarls, ripping her sword from its sheath.

The Turks move to protect Rufus, reaching for weapons, but Sephiroth is faster. He does not need Masamune to fight. Hurt and betrayal are. written in every line of Zack’s face, but all four raise their hands in surrender.

“Peace talks,” Rufus says, blue eyes staring calmly into Elfe’s. “I want the old regime overthrown just as much as you do.”

“So you can rebrand and keep on doing what you were doing?” she growls, inches away from tearing his throat out. “Give me one good reason why I should believe you.”

“Because I know where your Ravens came from. I know there are more soldiers like that. And if we don’t do something to stop that as well as the mako reactors, there won’t be a planet left to save.”

 _That_ grabs her attention, and Sephiroth’s too. Eyes narrowed, she lowers her sword, but does not sheath it.

“Alright Mr. President, let’s hear what you have to say.”

\--

Rufus is telling the truth. Nothing that outlandish could possibly be a lie. Besides, Sephiroth has vague memories of some of it: mutated creatures in the training simulator, stats and serial numbers he did not recognize displayed against his own. He had known, abstractly, that Shinra had been breeding an army guaranteed to be loyal, to take the place of SOLDIER. He hadn’t wanted to believe it.

“Is that why you left?” Zack asks him once the conference is over. Elfe and Rufus are still hashing out details, leaving the two SOLDIERs to catch up.

Sephiroth shakes his head. “I wasn’t given much of a choice. I was told to return with Elfe’s head or not at all.”

“And you chose to stay away rather than kill her,” Zack finishes.

“Yes.”

There’s silence as Zack mulls that over. It takes Sephiroth a moment to remember that Zack’s got a girlfriend himself. Perhaps he can understand Sephiroth’s motivations to some degree.

“Are you in love with her?”

“Yes.” The word escapes before he’s had time to think about it. It’s a bit of a surprise to hear himself say it.

“But that’s not all, is it? There’s a rumor going around about something Hojo did to you. Is… Is it true?”

“Yes.”

Horrified, Zack blanches green and swallows hard. “Gods. I’m sorry.”

Sephiroth shrugs. “I’m alright.”

“Yeah, but _still_. No wonder you left.”

Sephiroth’s decision to defect cannot be boiled down to one reason alone. There is Elfe, yes, but also his own obsolescence. He’d become complacent, careless. His submission to Hojo was proof enough of that. Even without Elfe to complicate matters, his next mission might well have been his last.

“It was a lot of things that added up to more than I could bear. I realized I was tired of missions, tired of carrying out orders I hated, tired of having people and things taken from me. Weapons aren’t supposed to feel, Zack. When you finally feel something other than pain and loneliness, it’s a shock. You want more. And you can’t go back to being miserable.”

It’s a long speech for Sephiroth, but words come easier when communicating with a fellow soldier. Perhaps that’s why it’s not such a strain to talk to Elfe.

“I’d been in pain all my life and never noticed because I didn’t know anything different. Now I know better, and I won’t allow anyone else to take advantage of my ignorance.”

Zack nods, expression resigned. He understands. He isn’t happy about it, but he understands.

“I get it,” Zack tells him, clapping him on the shoulder. “I had hoped I could change your mind but…” He sighs and shakes his head. “Stay here. Fight with Elfe. Be happy.”

The smile sneaks up on him unawares, and Sephiroth offers it to Zack. “Thank you.”

\--

“I want you,” he whispers into her hair that night. The desert is cold, and they’re curled up together for extra heat. The conversation with Zack has brought so many things to the front of Sephiroth’s mind that Elfe needs to hear.

“No,” Elfe whispers back. It’s late. It’s unlikely the sentries will hear them, but this is a conversation too private to be overheard.

“Not like that. I want _you_ , yourself. Not just your body, all of you. I want to stay here with you for as long as you’ll let me.”

Blue eyes gleam with a familiar SOLDIER glow as she searches his face. “Are you saying you love me?”

The words have been spoken to him less than a handful of times, all before Uncle Gast and Aunt Ifalna abandoned him to Hojo. He’d almost forgotten the phrase existed. Sephiroth thinks about it for a moment while Elfe waits, patient, unjudging. It was one thing to say it to Zack, it’s something else entirely to say it to Elfe’s face. It isn’t easy to speak so much truth at once.

“Yes.”

“Good. ‘Cause I love you too, Gaia help me.”

She smiles against his mouth as they kiss. Sephiroth pulls her close and rests his cheek on her hair.

“I want you,” he repeats, and then remembers the correct wording and tries again. “I love you.”

The tone and cadence are the same. They should be. It’s what he’s been trying to say since the first time they fought.

Elfe looks up at him, thoughtful. “Tell you what. If we win, if we beat Shinra, I’m yours.”

“If?” It’s the first time she’s expressed doubt in her own mission.

“When,” she says more confidently.

Sephiroth nods in agreement. “When we beat Shinra.”

She’ll be his.

\--

They storm the Shinra building a few months later. It’s taken longer than he would have liked, but it took time to organize everything; Turks, SOLDIER, Deepground...it was a lot to coordinate. Sephiroth offers Elfe the honor of running President Shinra through. She shakes her head.

“No. You deserve this.”

“Are you sure?” he asks. He’s already beheaded Hojo and damn if that wasn’t cathartic.

She folds his hands around Masamune’s grip. “Do it.”

He does. It’s satisfying to watch the old man flop over the blade, a look of blank disbelief lingering on his face.

And that’s it. They’ve cut off the hydra’s head. Now to make sure no more sprout in its place. Elfe takes out the bomb and sets it on the President’s desk. Sephiroth catches her wrist as she goes to set the timer.

“Does this count?” he asks. “Did we win?”

She glances at the bleeding body and turns back to him, a crooked smile on her face. “Yeah. We won. I’m yours.”

“Good.” He pulls her to him and leans down for a kiss.


End file.
